PurpleLuva01's Crescendo
by Purpleluva01
Summary: The definition of Crescendo; the progressive increase in force or intensity. That is exactly what Brillante Palomino feels when she meets Wildwing Flashblade by pure chance. When what was at first chance starts to grow into something more and her inner demons are pulled out one by one, will she be able to survive with an intact heart and soul? WWXOC
1. Close Encounter of the Tempered Kind

**_Reptilian-Angel's_**

**_Crescendo_**

**_By_**

**_Reptilian-Angel_**

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**ME: This is simply a plot bunny that burst into my head when I started thinking about Mighty Ducks and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get it to disappear or die so here it is!**

**This is literally my first MD:TAS Fic in forever so go easy on me, plz! I owe nothing save my own OCs! Read and review plz!**

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**_Chapter 1._**

**_Close_**

**_Encounter_**

**_Of_**

**_The_**

**_Strangely Dressed,_**

**_Short-Tempered,_**

**_And Short-Heightened_**

**_Kind_**

**_(Worse Kind Name Ever)_**

**Normal P.O.V.**

**March 24, 6:38 PM**

Wildwing Flashblade groaned at the rapidly-speaking voice on the other end on the comm Unit. "Dive, how could you spill a entire batch of pancake batter over one of your 'special edition' comic books when it was on the _far_ side of the kitchen?"

Nosedive Flashblade rolled his eyes at his older brother from the screen. _"It was not the _entire_ batter; only at least like . . ._" He paused to count off the portion on his fingers. "_. . . 2/4's of it! Anyways, as to how it happened, I was trying this bit I saw on the cooking channel where this kooky chef could dance and cook at the same time and made this really good-looking marble cake. So, I started thinking, "If this chef-dude can do it with marble cake, I can do it with Pancakes!" So, I –_"

"Nosedive, I saw the end result, I _really _doubt I wanna know the rest." Wildwing said, cutting him off. Nosedive smiled sheepishly at him from the comm.

Wildwing still couldn't believe the situation that had played out nearly an hour ago; he had just come back from shooting some pucks in the goal at the rink above their Headquarters, as he often did when he wanted to relieve stress. After a hot shower and a quick change into his casual gear, he went to get a snack and drink from the kitchen. Only to nearly get splattered full-on in the beak with some of Aunt Jemina's Pancake Mix™ before even getting through the doorway. Getting his bearings, he was greeted with the sight of Nosedive covered head to toe in batter while begrudgingly holding a now ruined comic book in his hands as a somewhat batter covered radio blasting fast-paced dance music went on from behind him.

Before he could even ask what happened, that was when Mallory McMallord had the misfortune of walking in and slipping on some of the mix caked floor and landing flat on her tail feathers.

Needless to say, when she finally comprehended what had just happened and saw Nosedive trying desperately to stifle his laughter, she was anything **_but_** happy.

In an explosive rage, while shouting at Nosedive so hard that her face had turned as red as her hair and loud enough to be heard from _Mars_ probably, she suddenly pointed to Wildwing and barked at him to go out and pick up some fabric bleach to clean her now ruined pair of designer skin-tight white leather jeans that had, as which she had ranted on to Nosedive, as he did now quote, "Cost more than the feathers on your **_ass_**!"

He would've protested on the matter, were it not for the green-eyed glare of pure undisguised death she gave him that still had his feathers sweating through his mask and him out the door of the Pond within two minutes flat. He hoped that his baby brother would be capable of surviving the black death-cloud that was _Puckworld Special Forces Lt._ Mallory McMallord on his own.

The past hour after that had been a blur, he couldn't even remember where he had gone and gotten the said bleach that was weighing down in the one plastic bag in his hand, how he had even gotten there without the Migrator or one of the Duck-cycles; he couldn't even remember how he had managed to grab his wallet. All he knew was when he was walking into Captain Comics, his feet were sore from apparently running over all over town, according to some passing locals and fans who had seen him in action, his heart was pounding from sheer adrenaline and Nosedive had beeped his comm. asking him if he could stop by the said store and pick up another copy of the very comic he had ruined. He must've agreed to it at some point, otherwise he wouldn't have been there to begin with.

The bell jingled as Wildwing went through the revolving doors as Nosedive said to him, "_Look, Bro, don't even worry about paying; I already called ahead to Mookie and told her to put on my card. And _before_ you ask, no,_" Nosedive held up a finger at Wildwing's face when he was just about to reprimand him. "_I did not use your credit card again because this is serious . . . That and Phil said I could use his card as a loan for saving him from Tanya's wraith from that mechanic commercial he had us do last month._"

"Mechanic commercial?" Wildwing raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"_Oh, that's right. You were with Duke that day._" Nosedive said, rubbing his chin in comprehension. "_Ok, you remember that you were just about to walk in the locker room when you got back with Duke from _wherever_ you two were and saw Tanya in that skimpy –_"

Wildwing's feathers instantly grew warm under his mask and he waved his hand off in dismissive embarrassment. "_No_, forget it, nevermind; I know what you're talking about. Don't say it."

Nosedive snickered at his brother's expression. "_Man, I don't think I've ever seen you that flustered. Especially the part where Tanya's zipper suddenly got caught on the front of her bra and when she tried to pull it down, it –_"

"_Dive_ . . ." Wildwing growled lowly, feeling his face grow hotter and feeling _extremely_ grateful for the golden mask covering his face.

Nosedive held his hands up in surrender with a smile. "_Okay, okay, I'm done. Back to the subject, just tell Mookie you're there to pick up my order and you're all set. And if she's not there ask Thrash, odds are he's gonna be there because Mookie said something about having to pick up an order from another customer downtown and might not make it back for the rest of the day._"

"Alright." Wildwing mumbled as he looked around the store. Staring blankly at the fake pterodactyl model hanging from the roof, he added, "By the way, how are you still alive? I'd assumed that Mallory had killed you after I ran out on you both."

"_Well, at first she was going to go for the jugular but I managed to survive by offering to cook on her nights for two weeks and agreeing to be her sparring partner for _nine_ weeks._" Nosedive then frowned, suddenly irritated. "_By the way, thanks for watching my back, _Big Brother."

"Sorry about that, Baby Brother," Wildwing rolled his eyes. "But if I'm gonna lead this team I need to do it while still _standing_. You and I both know by now that Mallory is not one to let someone go unpunished when her clothes are involved. Especially when they cost more than Phil's entire car insurance."

"_Don't remind me, my ears are _still _ringing from that one time when Duke accidentally spilled some of his coffee on Mallory's fancy new top that she got from Rodeo._" Nosedive made an exaggeration of this by sticking his pinkie in his ear and rubbing the canal to relieve some of the figurative soreness. "_Betcha he wishes that he slept in that morning._"

"Heh. Yea'." Wildwing chuckled lightly. "Well, I'd imagine you're gonna be busy in a minute considering that it was _Mallory's_ turn to cook dinner tonight and _you_ offered to do her cooking shifts –"

"_Careful, Wildwing,_" Nosedive pointed at him menacingly but with no real malice in his voice. "_Or I might add a little something _**extra**_ to your plate._"

"That line I shall _not_ cross." Wildwing smiled finally, though to anyone who saw him it would be hard to tell with the hard features of the mask. "Talk to you later, good luck."

"_Thanks bro, see ya later._" Nosedive gave him the peace sign before the image vanished with an electrical blink. Wildwing rolled his eyes at his little brother's attitude before snapping the comm. unit closed.

He walked up to the counter and looked around, hoping to see Thrash or Mookie working on either end of it but to no avail. Sighing slightly, he let his eyes wander around on the glass case below him; there lay an assortment of comics and collectable items of all shapes and sizes, a lot portraying superheroes and/or supervillians and the occasional monster and/or what Wildwing assumed were aliens. He felt his eyebrows furrow at the sight of a classic little alien plushy that was green with little arms and legs, a huge head and big shiny black eyes.

So, that's what aliens had been reduced to before the Ducks had came to Earth. _Unbelievable_.

"Hey, Wingman!" A familiar voice suddenly called out; Wildwing looked up and saw Thrash smiling his usual bright laid-back grin at him with a hand up in mid-wave. "Long time no see! What's been happening?"

"Not much." Wildwing tried his best to appear friendly despite the mask's appearance with a small smile. "Mostly just hockey practice and patrolling five times a week."

"Oh, bummer. Any signs of the criminal element?" Thrash asked sympathetically.

"Other than the occasional mugger or jaywalker, I can't say we've had much of the like." Wildwing shook his head with an indifferent shrug. "Anyway, I'm here to pick something for –"

"– The Diver?" Thrash finished for him. "Mookie told me all about it before she headed out earlier, told me to expect ya. I gotcha covered, big man. Wait here a sec and I'll be right back." Turning his back on him and heading down the counter for the storage room, he suddenly turned his head and said, "Oh, sorry, Dudette, I'll be right with ya in a minute."

Dudette? Who was Thrash –?

Wildwing turned his head and his eyes immediately widened at the woman in question.

At least, he **_assumed_** she was a woman.

The human in question was a girl, as he could tell by the rhythmical curves of her figure, but was small enough to be a head and a half shorter than Mallory. The rest of her was a sight to behold; the top of her head was layered in multitudes of neon yellow, red and purple highlights and extremely cropped up so it had three curls of hair on the very top of her head and a string of black strands coming out from a bang and covering her face and brushing against the type of her nose, out of the back of her head a long black braid strode out and brushed against the back of her knees as she shifted her feet. Wildwing couldn't get a good look of her face because of her hair but could see some of light shining off the bottom of her nose and her lip so he could definitely say that there were piercings. Her skin was a healthy shade of white but was far from flawless; she was facing him on her left side so he could see the beginnings of some kind of ring tattoo on her shoulder blades and a very difficult view of – _Ach, what did Grin call it? _– An Yin-Yang symbol on her hip. Her outfit was interesting as well; she sported a gray tank top with one black strap going over her right shoulder with a fake red buckle, the collar of her top styled so it looked ripped and baring the words, "Risky, frisky, whisky" in bright pink, yellow and white letters on the front, the last word separated from the rest with the garment tailored so the midriff matched the trim of the collar and the hem was sewn black with archaic lettering. Looking down, he saw a pair of jeans that closely matched the pair that Nosedive had ruined with his batter but this pair was held up by a small blue belt that looked more like a rope with a cinch for a buckle, had small green pockets sewn on her sides and were still loose enough so the bottom of her legs bunched up at her ankles, or _ankle_, given the right leg was rolled up revealing a good portion of her thigh and calve. Her wrists were bare save for a small black watch set backwards on her left arm, her finger and toenails were both painted black and Wildwing could see something that looked like a . . . A mustache(?) like that logo from that canned chip brand Nosedive liked so much peeking out from her old-looking, worn-out sandals.

All in all, she was the most bizarre-looking – No, the most _outrageously_ looking human that he had ever seen. And he had seen Mookie.

"For the record, I'm twenty-four." She whirled her head around to face him suddenly with an annoyed frown.

Wildwing jumped at the instant animosity of this human, he had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even predicted her making a move to face him. "O-oh, I-I-I, I was just –" He felt his tongue twist itself as he tried to come up with a decent excuse. The girl had put a hand on her hip and another on the counter where she tapped her fingers irate, making a succession of tinks against the glass. "S-s-sorry, I-I was –" He rambled on, rubbing his neck out of habit.

He finally put a cork in it when he caught a good look at her face.

The frame of her face was pieced together elegantly with high cheekbones, a softly sharpened nose, smooth plump lips and a long swan-like neck. However, that stood out in strong contrast to her face; her eyebrows were dark brown near black with a stud on the right side and silver ring on the left. Her nose carried an ivy green nose ring and another silver stud on her right nostril. Her upper lip was painted with a green matching her nose ring and below it housed yet another silver stud. He could also see her right ear and grimaced on the inside at the sight of two purple and green studs on her lobe and a chain earring whose ring clamped on the top curve of her ear. Everything about her facial looks, combined with her now agitated, tight-lipped expression, just practically screamed "_I'm a metal punk rebel chick, don't piss me off!_"

But that wasn't what caught Wildwing the most. What did was the collection of small scars below her right eye and the much larger and somewhat reddened collegiate of scratches on her exposed right calve.

Oh, and her eyes, of course, her big, blue/green irises had caught him as well.

Irises that did not look all _too_ _happy__ at __**all**_ at how he was _looking_ at her –

"Do I have something on my face? Or have you just become interested in checking me out?" She snapped, crossing her arms over her surprisingly ample chest and enlarging them in the process.

Wildwing once again was taken aback at her swift sharp tone. Feeling himself become more nervous at the crude scrutinize of the glare she was giving to him, his tongue once again became glued to the top of his mouth as he started, "N-no! I-I didn't mean to stare! I-I w-was just, uh . . ." The girl frowned even more at his procrastination of an answer. "I-I was just a little –"

"Don't tell me, let me guess; revolted of my outfit, agitated at my posture, miffed at my looks, pissed off just by my sheer presence alone?" The girl sneered, counting off her dainty fingers with each suggestion, a scowl aimed right at him, not at all intimidated by the outer looks of Drake Ducaine's Mask.

Wildwing looked at her, now stunned at her bitter choice of words and some thoughts of nervousness forgotten. "Wait a minute, what?"

"It's rather obvious." The girl said curtly. "I could see you grimace at my little up-do, even from the outside of that fancy-dancy faceplate of yours." Wildwing felt himself jump once again. How the _hell_ did she know he did _that_? Had he been that obvious? Almost as if she read his mind, she quickly added, "And yes, I'm not as much as ditz as I look. The blonde part of my hair is just highlights, I'll have you know."

Wildwing couldn't help but look at this girl incredulously. He hadn't thought she was a ditz. He wasn't even thinking about her highlights and she was accusing him of being stereotypical? This human had some serious brass. "Wait, where did you get _that_ from? I wasn't thinking about that at all." He asked her, looking _way_ down to meet her gaze.

"Uh-huh," The girl scowled even more deeply, totally unconvinced. "And I'm the Shah of Iran."

Now it was Wildwing's turn to scowl. He couldn't believe the nerve of this human, she barely made up to his collarbone, in fact she only made it up to his solar plexus, and _she_ was the one telling _him_ off? _Unbelievable_. He couldn't quite hide the snark in his voice as he said to her, "Well, you certainly have the _height_ to live up to that claim."

"Oh, really?" The girl sneered. "How about you? I'm sure the hockey team's missing their mascot by now. Why don't you go and talk to them? I'm sure they have that cute little costume of yours all ready for you."

"Take it you're not a hockey fan, otherwise you wouldn't say that." Wildwing growled, leaning in towards her, actually depending on the design of the mask to scare some sort of respect into her.

The girl, however, didn't buy it as she inched towards him as well, her face now portraying true annoyance as she snapped, "Yea', I would be if I was actually a fan of watching over-grown and over-stuffed meat-heads skate across fake ice like a bunch of bloated buffaloes and slap a little black disk back and forth with sticks and slam into each other into the boards like it was their jobs. Which pretty much **_is_**," She faked a tap to her chin at that part as if she actually contemplated it. "Now that I really think about it. So, tell me, Sports-Ducks, how much cash do _you_ have in _your_ wallet?"

Wildwing felt his feathers ruffle. This girl was mocking him, that he knew. Making fun of his Home-world's national sport, he was used to that, he was a huge _Alien __Duck_, for crying out loud; but to actually _mock_ him using that dumb insurance duck commercial? Now, that was just taking it **_too_** far.

He reared back from her, going to his complete height and full-hockey-captain-mode, as Nosedive had so dubbed it as a joke in the past during one of the few very serious hockey practices they've had in the past, and giving her his best glower, he started, "Okay, listen, you –"

"Uhm, Wildwing, Dudette?"

Thrash shrank back meekly when both the Drake and the girl bombarded him with dual death glares. He hid behind the comic in his hands as he said, "Whoa, guys, hostile much?"

That did something to the girl because the next second, like some sort of hidden switch was flipped; she lost her glare and smiled at him sweetly with a happy glint in her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was rude. I was just coming in to see if any more of "_The Legend of _Sirius" books have come in yet?"

Wildwing's anger immediately fizzled out and was promptly replaced with utter confusion.

What the puck? What was that all about? What happened to that pissed off little girl who was comparing him to that damn Aflac™ duck? Out of nowhere, he bitterly noted that if Nosedive was here, he would probably be laughing at the sudden switch of personalities that this girl just did.

He gave her a dumbfounded look as Thrash said to her, a little stunned at her mood-swing himself, "Oh! Uh, yeah, just came in yesterday over in the fantasy section." And pointed over to the said section, still somewhat hiding behind the comic.

"Thank you very much." The girl said before swiftly turning on her heel and walking away from the counter, but not before slapping Wildwing in the chest with her braid. Wildwing felt his eye twitch in annoyance but didn't otherwise react on it. He instead only paid attention to the rest of the ring tattoo her saw before; the five national multi-colored rings of the Olympics sticking out on her shoulder blades like taillights on a car.

Wildwing gave that a blank look. Yep, the most _outrageously_ fitted human he had ever seen.

Thrash handed him the comic after they watched her go from a distance and when he was _sure_ she wasn't about to come back in the next second for Round two of "_Who is going to explode?!_" "Hey Thrash?" Wildwing said to him, keeping his voice low to keep the girl from overhearing them. Thrash hummed in response. "Do you have any idea who that is? I don't think I've seen her before."

"How do you know?" Thrash asked him, propping his elbow onto the counter. "Maybe she's been here for months and been to a few of your games and you've just never seen her until now."

"Thrash, I _sincerely_ doubt I would miss any human who has a hairstyle like _that_." Wildwing gestured dryly to his own mullet in emphasis. "You could shine a flashlight on that hair and it would glow like the northern lights."

"Okay, good point." Thrash snickered at the blatant expression of the fearsome mask on Wildwing's face. "As for the girl, I don't know a whole lot about her; word is that she just moved here. Out-Of-Towner, y'know?"

"Hmm . . ." Wildwing murmured, mostly to himself then Thrash. "Where from?"

"No one really knows. All I _do_ know is that she rented some place near the mall; she doesn't say where but she did mention it being surrounded by a whole bunch of trees. My best guess is that she lives near a garden house or something. Mookie's hung out with her a few times, says she's a pretty okay girl." Thrash mused quietly, both keeping their eyes on the girl as she looked over the comic selection carefully and thoughtfully. "Oh, and her name's supposed to be like a "smarty" name or something."

""Smarty"?" Wildwing said.

"You know, like "Genius" or some kind of name like that." Thrash clarified as he wagged his finger absently. "Some kind of _really_ hard to pronounce name, man. Like Italian, I think?"

Wildwing gave the girl another look, the said human now holding one book and looking through one thick comic another aimlessly. "Really? She doesn't look Italian." He said. When she talked earlier, he didn't recall hearing any trace of an accent in her voice.

Although his experience with humans from other countries or continents was rare, thanks to a few sports dinner that Phil had somehow managed to talk him and the rest of the ducks into every few months, Wildwing had actually had either the pleasure or often times, _displeasure_ of meeting some fellow hockey players from all over the world; some of them were a little aloof when talking to the alien duck, as if him just being there talking was just some freak force of nature. He recalled seeing the Los Angeles and Washington colors on them, so that probably explained why. Some were just straight up rude and ignored him completely before adding whispered insults and crude remarks to his back as he walked away to try and mingle somewhere else. He definitely saw some of Chicago and New York colors on them that time.

There were a few more tolerable players there; this one man from Bensonhurst, with slicked-back hair and blue eyes made interesting conversation with him. Of course, Wildwing could barely understand him with his bizarre accent and was tempted a few times to find Duke whom he thought could translate the motormouth human's language.

He was happy Phil was nearby when the human started talking even faster and even more incoherently and pulled him aside before Wildwing mistakenly said something wrong and said set off the drunk human off the deep end.

"I'm not saying she _is_ Italian, dude," Thrash pointed out. "I'm just saying her _name_ _might_ be Italian. It's like really fancy and long, that's all I know for sure, man."

"How is it you know something like that yet you don't know her _exact_ name?" Wildwing couldn't help but ask him, giving him a side-glance.

"Hey, I'm just telling you what I know, man." Thrash said to him with a dry smile. "Why do you even want to know anyway?"

Wildwing went silent. That's right. This human was deliberately trying to start something with him, calling him out and now she was reading blissfully in the other side of the store with at least five thick books in her hand like nothing had even happened.

She had angered him yet just walked away. With that being said, why was he asking Thrash, Thrash of _all_ _people_, about her?

"'Scuse me?"

The girl suddenly vaporized at the counter; Wildwing almost visibly jumped for the second time that day at her odd reappearance while Thrash's stunned eyes widened the tiniest bit, equally as astounded. The girl simply stood there with no longer _five_ but _eight_ thick comics in her arms, carrying them like it was nothing and blinked indifferently at them. "If it's not too much trouble I'd like to buy these."

"Oh yeah, sure thing, Dudette." Thrash said, taking the books from her and ringing them up. Wildwing looked away to avoid her look, pretending to be studying the little green alien plushy again, despite how much it annoyed him.

He heard the cash register beep as Thrash lined up the receipt. "Okay, that'll be 85.98, Dudette." He said to her. Wildwing rolled his eyes at that extravagant price. That was one of the things he really hated about the humans' economy; one minute something's cheap as one dollar, the next it's more expensive than your entire household.

He had expected her to complain about the amount of money and demand a discount relentlessly. The Ducks had seen more then their fair share of stressed-out and over-worked humans doing that whenever they went out to do whatever kind of shopping they needed to do. One time, it even led to an armed hold-up while Grin and Tanya were out shopping for some new parts for the Aerowing. He was just happy that Grin had handled it, by which he mean that Grin had simply reached over and grabbed the gun used for the robbery out of the robber's hand and crushed it like a wad of paper; with the humans' capital system as messed up as it was, no wonder people were turning so low as to robbing some store right on the spot.

So imagine Wildwing's surprise when the girl simply smiled, pulled out her wallet, saying, "Call me Brill." Before casually handing him a whole wad of crisp dollar bills.

Wildwing counted the amount of tens, twenties and fives he saw in his head. That amount probably matched what Mallory paid for those pan-caked pants if not more. If the girl, or "Brill" as she just said her name was, saw him staring as she watched Thrash count out the change, she didn't comment on it. Wildwing was grateful for the red lens of the mask at the time.

Okay, so now, this girl was short, fiery, outlandishly fashionable, quick to flip personalities and had more than enough cash to burn?

Brill waved Thrash off when he handed her the change. "Keep it as a tip. I'm sure I won't need it."

_And_ wasn't picky about getting back change either? He was sure Thrash had just gotten a thirty-dollar tip.

Thrash didn't try to force her to take the change; he smiled at her with an "Awesome! Thanks!" and set the money aside before gladly filling up some bags with her books. Brill simply smiled in response.

Now Wildwing's interest was peaked. _Who_ exactly was this girl?

Brill either forgot he was there or didn't acknowledge him, because once the books were all bagged, she took them into her hands easily, said good-bye to Thrash politely and moved around the Team Captain without so much as blinking, and walked right out the doors.

Wildwing, either to her knowledge or without her knowing, watched her go. If he hadn't just talked to her, he would've never believed that she was just there.

"She's seems pretty cool, dude." Thrash commented as he stuffed the tip in his pocket. "Not many girls leave big-time tips like that, less'en they're like ultra-rich or something."

"Yeah . . ." Wildwing murmured, once again mostly to himself. It sounded mostly like a blank answer because his mind was more focused on watching Brill go through the glass doors of Captain Comics. ". . . Do you think she'll come by here again?"

"Don't see why not." Thrash said, not noticing how he was acting. "I've seen her sometimes go to that book store downtown with like huge gnarly stacks of books and tear through at least two of them at once while walking at the same time; she's barely been here for, like three weeks and she's already been, like most everywhere around here and downtown Anaheim."

"Really?" Wildwing looked back at him. Thrash nodded before picking up a box off the floor and sorting through the comics that were set within.

Wildwing mulled over everything Thrash had told him in his head. That human had been living here for three weeks and until now, he hadn't even noticed her _once_? What was up with _that_? He was usually _way_ more observant whenever it came to noticing things out of particular. Hell, he was a goalie; he was used to it, that's how he could block even the most difficult of slap-shots during the season. So when something like this slipped by him, it really seemed to ruffle his feathers a little.

He turned his head back to the doors. Brill was no longer in his sights. She had vanished just as quickly as she came. Somehow, Wildwing felt disappointed. Why, he didn't know, he just **_was_**.

Wildwing then shook his head. No sense getting all worked up about it. She was gone. Simple as that. So just leave it at that. He picked up his brother's comic and the fabric bleach from where he had abandoned it on the floor.

He had to get back and make sure that Mallory could still get her pants cleaned and hadn't skinned Nosedive alive yet. He really didn't want to have to end up cleaning up _that_ mess.

**~X~**

Brill tuned herself out as the world went on around her.

People walking on the sidewalk, chatting on their phones or the person next to them, skating on roller-blades or riding on bikes on the streets, listening to loud music blasting from their headphones or radios; all of it faded as she shut it out by will.

Closing her eyes and with amazing coordination, she avoided crashing into anybody or anything. She swerved around workaholics, crept around poles and side-stepped the occasional pet out with it's owner on a walk. Brill put all of the obstacles out of her mind.

All that mattered to her was the moments of before.

_"__Do I have something on my face? Or have you just become interested in checking me out?"_

_"__N-no! I-I didn't mean to stare! I-I w-was just, uh . . . I-I was just a little –"_

_"__Don't tell me, let me guess; revolted of my outfit, agitated at my posture, miffed at my looks, pissed off just by my sheer presence alone?"_

_"__Wait a minute, what?"_

_"__It's rather obvious. I could see you grimace at my little up-do, even from the outside of that fancy-dancy faceplate of yours. And yes, I'm not as much as ditz as I look. The blonde part of my hair is just highlights, I'll have you know."_

_"__Wait, where did you get that from? I wasn't thinking about that at all."_

_"__Uh-huh, and I'm the Shah of Iran."_

_"__Well, you certainly have the _height_to live up to that claim."_

_"__Oh, really? How about you? I'm sure the hockey team's missing their mascot by now. Why don't you go and talk to them? I'm sure they have that cute little costume of yours all ready for you."_

_"__Take it you're not a hockey fan, otherwise you wouldn't say that."_

_"__Yea', I would be if I was actually a fan of watching over-grown and over-stuffed meat-heads skate across fake ice like a bunch of bloated buffaloes and slap a little black disk back and forth with sticks and slam into each other into the boards like it was their jobs. Which pretty much _**is**, _now that I really think about it. So, tell me, Sports-Ducks, how much cash do you have in your wallet?"_

Opening her eyes, she found herself standing at a crosswalk. Once again, she was astounded that she hadn't just walked right out in the middle of ongoing traffic.

That was quickly quelled as she replayed the conservation she just had over and _over_ and _over_ again in her head.

_"__You just love stirring up trouble, don'tcha, Lanti?"_ A snarky, joking voice came unbidden.

Brill gnawed at her lower lip. She hung her head, suddenly interested in her feet. The light changed on the neon-lit sign above her and she felt herself drift with the people as they made their way across the white-striped walkway. Once her feet hit the stone of the sidewalk, she walked to the nearest bench and plopped down on it, never once letting go of her bags.

She kept silent for five . . . Six . . . Several moments before breathing in and letting out a heavy sigh.

Nice work, Lanti. You had just made an enemy of Wildwing Flashblade of the Mighty Ducks.

Great work.

* * *

**ME: This fic was oddly enough just a one piece when I first thought of it and, I'm ashamed to say, I forgot all about it when I got caught on an Archipelago kick months and months ago . . . But I decided that this story was more better suited to be a chapter-ficlet rather than just a one chapter wonder so the following chapters and possibly lame titles that'll follow will be the end result.**

**This will officially be my first Mighty Ducks fanfics in a long time; my second attempt since my first one was when I was just starting out on this site and royally SUCKED the BIG one. So please go easy on me!**

**Anyways, I hope you all give Brill a chance for not being the usual fan-girlish human that the Ducks usually meet and being a totally evolved character that you all can fall in love with! I know I have!**

**'****Till next time!**


	2. Can't Get You Outta of My Mind

**_Chapter 2._**

**_Can't_**

**_Get_**

**_You_**

**_Outta_**

**_My_**

**_Mind_**

**_(Will SOMEONE Please Tell Me Why?!)_**

**March 25, 3:12 PM**

**_A day later . . ._**

Wildwing grunted when Grin's slapshot puck smacked him straight in the chest _again _and shoved him right into the goal _again_. His head banged on the goal bar **_again_**, making him see stars as he fell onto his tail feathers on the ice **_AGAIN_**.

Great, _that _was gonna cost him another pair of bruises.

Then again, this was hockey practice, or at least it _was_ the first few minutes.

That didn't stop him from grunting, "_Oof_ . . . What is with you guys constantly trying to send a puck _through_ me?"

"Dude, you're the goalie, you tell us." Nosedive skidded to a stop on the ice and held out a hand to help his brother up. Wildwing took it and allowed him to pull himself back up to his feet. As he rubbed his third bump, at least he _thought _it was his third bump, his head wasn't exactly on straight due to the fact that it's been recently making contact with a metal bar more than it should; Nosedive gave him a questioning look as he said, "But seriously, Wing, you okay? You're usually a _lot_ more focused than this, I mean, dude, you keep hitting the bar like that and you're gonna be as screwy as the Chameleon."

"Oh, wonderful," Wildwing said dryly. "I was hoping to have a sudden love for imitating famous human actors and an affinity for the color green." Nosedive snickered at his dry humor before he gave him a "really?" look. Sighing, he rubbed at the sore spot on his chest as he continued, "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. Something's been off ever since yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Nosedive's eyebrows went up as a thought occurred to him. "Oh, wait, you mean that weirdo girl who said you were like that dumb insurance duck?"

"I never said that she called me that." Wildwing pointed out. "But yeah, pretty much."

"Huh," Nosedive put a finger to his beak in thought. "Have you thought about her much ever since you last saw her?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Wildwing said in dull shock. "I don't even know why though, she was just another human."

"Bro, it's kinda hard to think of her like that." Nosedive raised an eyebrow at him. "At least, according to what you told me about her; whacked-out hairdo, gnarly clothes, plenty of moo-lah, shorter than Mallory but equally as bitchy – _ACK!_" He squawked when Mallory had slipped her hockey stick in between his feet and yanked out his left ankle from under him, making him land flat on his beak onto the ice.

Mallory humphed from above him. "So who's "bitchy", Dive? I don't think I quite heard you correctly."

"Girly girl, you already get to use me as a _punching bag_ for two hours a day!" Nosedive frowned at her, pushing himself up off the ice. "Would it kill ya to _not _assault me for the rest of the ten hours afterwards?"

"And what fun would that be?" Mallory sneered at him. Nosedive simply rolled his eyes at her. Mallory then looked at Wildwing and asked, "By the way, who is this girl that's got you all bothered?"

Wildwing frowned at her choice of words before stating, "I _never_ said that she _bothered_ me; anyways, I don't even know who she is. All I know is that she just moved here about three weeks ago and that her name is apparently "Brill"."

""Brill"?" Mallory repeated, the name not quite commuting well with her ears. Nosedive had finally gotten back to his feet and rubbed his now numb beak from next to her. "Okay, in _no_ way is that her real name. That sounds like someone's lame attempt to shorten it."

"That's what he thought." Nosedive said, jerking his thumb to Wildwing. "He told me that her real name was probably _real _girly or something and she just shortened it to save time or some super major embarrassment."

"I _never _said _that_." Wildwing repeated for the third time. At this point, he might as well be part parrot.

"It probably _is_ something really girly like, uh, "Gabriella"!" Mallory stated. "That was my aunt's name and she hated it; she insisted on all of us calling her "Gabby". I pretty sure my uncle Darrell called her "Brilly" one time."

"No way, girly girl!" Nosedive waved at her. "It's probably something more like . . . "Maribella"!"

Mallory looked at him, askance. "Don't you mean "Mirabella"?"

"Oh, you mean that cute chick at that pizza place? Oh, yeah, she's _definitely_ got it going on!" Nosedive smirked, tracing the said girl's apparently _very_ curvy figure with his hands, much to Mallory's and Wildwing's distaste.

"I hear that!" Duke smirked as well as he skated past them, slapping Nosedive's hand when he brought it up for a high-four.

Mallory rolled her eyes in disgust. "You both have officially been hanging out together _too_ much."

"Don't knock it 'till ya try it, sweetheart." Duke smiled flirtatiously at her as he skated behind her, the puck from the goal gliding with his stick. Mallory simply glared into his back as he slapped the puck over to Tanya.

"W-Wildwing!" Tanya called over to him. "M-Maybe we should stop f-for t-today. With you t-taking so many hits to the head like that, you might have a serious concuss–, concussi–, w-well, you know, a really bad cranial injury!"

"So . . ." Wildwing smiled humorously at her. "You're saying I need my head examined." Nosedive snickered at the hidden joke while Mallory rolled her eyes at them.

Tanya followed her lead with a frown. Hands on her hips, she shot back, "You keep that up, Mister, and you might just get it along with a free CAT scan!"

Wildwing chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, Tanya, that's enough practice for today, guys!"

"If by practice, you mean, how many of Grin's pucks can you survive, then, yeah, I'm with ya." Duke joked as everyone started making their way to the locker room.

Wildwing shook his head at him before saying, "Back to the subject; I don't why I'm _even_ thinking about this girl. She's gone. That should be the end of it, right?"

"Right." Nosedive nodded, his skates clunking and clinking as they walked off the rink and onto solid ground.

"I mean, what's the point of thinking about someone that you're never going to see again, right?"

"Right."

"So there's no point to having this conversation, right?" Wildwing stated.

"Right!"

After a moment of silence, Wildwing gave him a look. "You're just agreeing with me, aren't you?"

"Yes!" Nosedive grinned brightly.

"Nice try, Dive." Wildwing patted his head, mussing up Nosedive's hair with his helmet and earning a feeble protest. "But I'm not taking over half your shifts for you."

Nosedive gasped audibly, feigning shock at his brother's words. "_What_?! _Wildwing_! Do you _honestly_ think I would go and try to do a thing like that to _you_? To _you_? My _own_ brother? My own _feathers_ and _blood_?!" Wildwing simply arched an eyebrow at him. Nosedive dropped the act and sighed, "Okay, you caught me; I've already tried asking Duke but he wouldn't go for it. Still a bit hung over from the coffee incident."

"I'd imagine." Wildwing said. "But I'm _still_ not doing it."

Nosedive groaned. "C'mon, Wing, Mallory's got an iron club with a kick and punch to match! With my thin, sexy build and rugged good looks, I don't stand a chance!"

"You should've thought of that before you agreed to spar with her." Wildwing pointed out with a wry smile.

"Dude, if I didn't even _think_ about doing that, we'd be short one team member and you'd be short one baby brother." Nosedive shot back not as amused as his older sibling.

"You're my only baby brother." Wildwing pointed out.

"Which is as such, my point!" Nosedive held a finger up.

"Which is as such, the consequence of trying something silly like imitating a professional TV chief with pancake mix and Metro Station." Wildwing answered. At Nosedive's look, he replied. "And yes, I know what that is; I do actually watch something other than watch reruns of former games and that movie series they have based off of us starring Christopher Floyd."

Nosedive laughed at that. "You too? Man, that Kenan Thompson guy cracks me up!"

Wildwing chuckled as well, opening the door to the locker room. "That makes the two of us."

Nosedive managed to choke down his giggles after a moment or so, saying, "So, you feel any better?"

Wildwing set his stick down on the bench, opening his designated locker. "Pardon?"

"You know, about you-know-who?" Nosedive air-quoted, curling his fingers.

Wildwing pulled off his jersey silently. After a minute, he blinked in realization. ". . . You know what? Yeah, I do feel a lot better. Thanks Nosedive."

"Don't mention it, bro." Nosedive smiled, swerving around him to his own locker. "So, any chance you can –?"

"Not gonna happen, Nosedive." Wildwing responded, never pausing in his unlatching his chest plate and fingering the five new dents in the ribs. Yep, he was gonna have to have Tanya look at this later.

"Yeah, I figured." Nosedive deadpanned. He shook it off the next second, however, threw his locker open and hummed loudly with a smile as he peeled off his jersey. Wildwing rolled his eyes. How his brother always bounced back so quick he would never know.

"Wildwing," Grin's low baritone made Wildwing nearly drop the leg pads in his hands out of fright. Looking up, he was stunned to see the large drake towering over him with a silent mirthful expression. How in Drake's name does something that _big_ move that _fast_?! He was getting his feathers ruffled left and right today! Grin's smile was mirthful but his tone was apologetic as he said with a bow, "I am sorry if my game-playing injured you; it's not my intention to hurt a fellow hockey player, let alone my captain."

Wildwing smiled up at him. "No it's alright, Grin, it's not your fault. I've should've been paying more attention."

Grin looked at him considerately. "Your aura seems clouded with apprehension and question. Perhaps something is on your mind?"

Wildwing blinked. He had forgotten about Grin's apparent ability to read "auras"; he never really put thought into it but never saw it as his place to judge on whether or not Grin actually had such talents. After all, those "feelings" of his had, more or less, often got him and the rest of the ducks out of some pretty close calls in the past, such as a sneak attack from the Saurians or one of Phil's embarrassing photo shoots. "U-uh, no, nothing's really on my mind; just unimportant things." He said lamely.

Grin didn't seem to show suspicion at his weak excuse, but said regardless, "If it didn't matter, it wouldn't weigh so heavily on your mind." Wildwing flushed at his obvious statement. "I shall not pry into your personal matters if you wish me not to. All I can say is this, Wildwing; even though the tree is of the earth and the clouds are of the sky, it does not mean they do not have a chance of meeting during the fall of spring rain."

Wildwing felt his mind draw up a blank. Puzzlement rung through his voice as he said, "Uhm, alright . . . I'll keep that in mind, thank you, Grin."

Grin simply nodded in reply before walking away to his own locker.

Wildwing watched him go with a shake of his head. He had to admit, at times, he had _absolutely_ _no_ idea what to make of the peaceful giant's random anecdotes. A few times, he supplied them to try and make sense of situations or end bad disagreements between teammates, most times between Duke and Mallory, and other times, he said them mostly just to add some sort of odd relief to a stressful situation.

He could use some relief now, however, because without warning, the thoughts of Brill came back full force. Groaning, he started removing the rest of his uniform mindlessly.

Why was he thinking about this girl? What was it about her that made his mind wonder aimlessly for hours on end? She should be just another human, right? That should be the end of it. Simple as that, right?

Wildwing felt like slapping himself upside the head. Great, now he was repeating himself again. He really _was_ becoming part parrot. He just hoped that no colored feathers suddenly started to pop out of his plume soon. That would not do him any good at all.

Especially if the feathers were neon colored like purple, red or yellow like a certain short, fiery girl's highlights –

That time, Wildwing actually did hit himself, smacking the heel of his palm into his head with a grunt. Duke, whose locker was across form him, saw this and gave an odd look but didn't comment on it.

He had to snap out of it, he couldn't go on like this. Otherwise, something stupid was going to happen and he was going to be too far off to actually–

"Wildwing! Boobala!"

Speak of the devil.

Wildwing frowned as Phil came strutting in with his usual grin. His usual, cocky "I-got-a-great-promotional-deal-for-you-that'll-line-my-pockets!" grin that always made him a little more than anxious. Paper in hand, he started, "Great practice, booby, listen up, I've just gotten this great promotional deal –"

"No." Wildwing immediately said.

Phil's smile fell. "What do you mean "no"? You don't even know what it is yet!"

"Read my beak, Phil." Wildwing frowned, repeating himself yet _again_.

"Trust me, booby," Phil gestured madly with the paper. "This is nothing like the last time! This gig is a real gold mine!"

Wildwing, by now, he completely stripped himself of his gear and stood only in his boxers as he looked Phil straight in the eye with the Mask now resting carefully on top of his street clothes. "Phil, the last time you said that, Daddy-O-Cool almost dunked Nosedive and I into a vat of black ooze."

"Okay, okay, I'll take the heat for that one." Phil brushed his bang out of his face wearily. "But believe me, this is something that'll be good for you and your image; look at this," He then read off the paper, "_Home 4 Birds_ _Sanctuary; The perfect place to roost! Sponsored by the Mighty Ducks, Anaheim Hometown Heroes!_"

"A bird sanctuary?" Wildwing questioned him.

"Yeah, this is perfect for you guys!" Phil said. "Who better to sponsor a home for some of Earth's rarest and most beautiful birds than Alien crime-fighting birds from outer space? Genius!"

". . . I suppose you'll want us to some photo shoots, right?" Wildwing deadpanned.

"You got it, booby!" Phil pointed at him with a smile. "You can't have a big environmental opening like this without some photo ops; one with all you guys standing at the ribbon cutting opening, a few of you guys hanging out with some of the workers there, maybe one of two or you actually feeding the birds . . ."

Wildwing rubbed his lower beak in contemplation. " . . . Huh, I . . . I guess that _does_ sound a plenty reasonable gig . . ."

"Of course it is, Wildwing!" Phil's eyes started twinkling. "Okay, there's the matter of the owner of the sanctuary actually wanting you to feed some of baby birds by giving some of the bird food to them through your beaks, so –"

Wildwing gave Phil a sharp look. "_What_?!"

Phil mistook Wildwing's horrified look for confusion and started, "Okay, well, you know how when baby birds are born and still too young for them to swallow feed by themselves so their mother's take food into their beaks and yak it back up in their –"

Wildwing's hands smacked over Phil's mouth, stopping him abruptly. "Okay, okay, okay, Phil, I get it! I _get_ it!"

Duke, from his seat on the bench gave their manager a disgusted look. "Phil, that's disgustin'! Ya actually expect us to do that?"

Phil's voice was muffled for a few seconds before he managed to peel off Wildwing's hands and ask, "Yeah, why, don't you guys do that back on Puckworld?"

"Yeah," Wildwing said, sarcastically. "We _did_, until the _fifth_ century!"

Phil gave him an annoyed look. "Well, how was I supposed to _know_ that? I thought you guys were built like regular ducks!"

"Well, Phil, here's an idea," Wildwing said.

"What?" Phil asked.

"_STOP_ THINKING LIKE WE'RE LIKE _REGULAR _DUCKS!" Wildwing exclaimed at him. Rubbing his temple irritably, he turned away from him and grabbed the towel that Nosedive tossed at him. "As for the sanctuary, forget it, the last thing I want is you humans thinking that we only eat food just puke it up back later. If you want that, go get some owls."

"Alright, alright, booby, forget the food thing!" Phil tried, walking after him as Wildwing made his way to the showers, much to his chagrin. "We could still make a few decent money shots, like maybe you guys posing with some of the merchandise; the owner tells me that he's selling the gift shop t-shirts for twenty bucks a head, the commemorative mugs for fifteen, snow-globes for thirty and everything else in between ten and fifty-five, so add that with the sixty percent he's offering us and deduct at least thirty percent for your loveable manager, that would get you at least –"

Wildwing had estimated him to stop when he went through the shower doors. As such, he never paused in his pace, drew back and closed one of the shower curtains and went ahead to take off his boxers.

Instead, lost in a haze of contractual babble and the signs of dollar bills, Phil unwittingly pushed aside the curtain, thinking it only as an obstacle in his path. "Are you even listening to me –?"

Wildwing froze in place; his face placid as he stood with one naked leg lifted out of his boxers and arms shifted in preparation to push the garment down the remaining one.

Both the human and drake stood frozen in awkward silence.

Phil blinked once. Wildwing blinked once.

The next second after, all hell broke loose.

"**_PHIL! GET THE PUCK OUTTA HERE!_**"

"_WHOA! Sorry, Wildwing! ACK! CALM DOWN!_"

"**_I'LL CALM DOWN ONCE YOU CLOSE THE FRIKIN' CURTAIN AND GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE!_**"

"_OKAY! OKAY! I'm GOING! I'm GOING!_"

_THUMP!_

"_OW! DON'T THROW THINGS AT YOUR LOVABLE MANAGER! MY MEDICAL INSURANCE DOESN'T COVER HORMONAL RAGES OF EMBARRASSED DUCKS!_"

"**_THEN QUIT RUNNING AROUND LIKE A CHICKEN WITH ITS HEAD CUT OFF AND _****_GET _****_OUT _****_ALREADY_**!"

The Ducks were caught between wincing from the high-pitched volume of Phil's and Wildwing's shouting and shaking with laughter while holding their sides with comical tears running down their faces. All save Grin, who shook his head in pity for both Wildwing and Phil.

Nosedive had fallen on his butt from his laughing fit before he regained his breath for a minute and grinning broadly at Mallory, who was barely supporting herself with one arm on her locker. "Should we help him, or should we not help him?"

"Depends, which one are you talking about?" Mallory choked out, turning so her shoulders were pressed up against the locker and she could her arm a break.

Phil, almost as if on cue, came rushing back into the locker room with a good portion of his shirt, tie and jacket drenched with water and a huge reddening bump on his forehead from the questionable object Wildwing threw at him. His face was flushed red in embarrassment as he patted his head with a handkerchief from his pocket while breathing heavily from what he had just been through.

Duke, possibly keeling over from his ill-mannered joy like the others from where he lay down on the bench, was the first to say to Phil, "So, Phil, ya get whatcha lookin' for?"

"Wha- I- _I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW, OKAY?!_" Phil squeaked out lamely as he busted into even more shades of red and tromped out; the rest of the ducks chortling even more harder than before with Mallory falling on her own butt next to Nosedive who had failed in getting back up, Duke falling back onto the bench, clutching his stomach as he tried to stop his cackling and Tanya blindly holding on to the silently sighing Grin for support as she hooted into his shoulder pads. "_IT'S __**NOT**_ _FUNNY!_" Phil shouted to them, only making them laugh, hoot and cackle three times as hard as before.

No one even bothered to check on Wildwing, who begrudgingly listened to the sounds his teammates as he went on to shower under the spraying, steaming hot waters in peace.

He sighed lightly. Another collection of bruises and bumps, thoughts about a girl that he didn't even know yet wondered about consistently and a horrifyingly embarrassing moment with Phil over a matter of discussing another publicity stunt.

Yep, just another hockey practice for the Mighty Ducks.

**~X~**

**March 25, 6:47 PM**

**_Later that day, elsewhere . . ._**

Brill grunted as she pulled herself onto the rooftop with one hand. Putting all her upper-body weight on it, she swiftly but carefully threw the small case in her other hand onto its surface. God, climbing with one hand was a hassle. Especially if you were trying to make sure your one most treasured possession was still in one piece and not out of its protective interior-padded casing and shattered to a thousand pieces on the ground.

Once she was sure that the case was securely in place and not in danger of falling off, she placed both palms to the roof and brought her legs up. Plopping her bottom down, she let her breath out with a whoosh. Who would've thought that such a tiny person such as her would have so much trouble getting her own self up onto a roof? Curse her genetically tiny muscles . . .

Looking up, she smiled a little at the bright stars already beginning to dot the sky. The North Star was as bright as ever and she could just barely see the flicker of Orion's Belt and Sirius.

Looks like it was going to be another clear night. She only wished that the moon wasn't a New Moon, she would've loved seeing its silvery glow. Oh well.

For just a moment, her thoughts instantly turned to Wildwing. Was he looking at the sky as well?

She blinked incredulously at that. Whoa! What brought that on? She shook her head to banish thoughts like that out of her mind. Regardless, she sighed briefly afterwards.

She didn't know why but some reason, at the most random points of the day, her thoughts would instantly revert to the memory of the hockey player. It didn't matter what she was doing at the time or how many times she yanked on her hair to forget about it afterwards, Wildwing's face just kept coming back, staring straight at her.

She could still remember it clearly; with that gold mask with its surface crafted so fiercely and sharply that it would intimidate probably the bravest of men, blood red lens that glinted ever so slightly from the intricate circuitry she no doubt saw peeking through the metal that covered the eyes of what she overheard most local hockey fans claimed to be one of the nicest guys ever known in hockey; his voice echoed at first confusion and bewilderment then anger and annoyance. She was sure he was frowning . . . Or, at least, she _assumed_ he was frowning. With his beak in the way it was kinda hard to tell . . .

Brill then realized what she was doing and promptly yanked on her hair roughly with a growl.

No. No! Bad Brill! No thinking about what was done in the past! Look to the future like you're supposed to be doing!

Some dumb alien haunting your thoughts isn't going to do you any good so why go on about it?

With those words repeating themselves in her head like a mantra, she let go of her tortured strands with a satisfied sigh. Turning to her side, she flipped her case onto the side and clicked the clasps open. Once free, she pushed open the lid.

Resting in place, her slightly chipped, somewhat worn, painted dark blue baroque violin with its long, slim trusty bowstring greeted her. She gave a bittersweet smile.

Silently, she picked up both violin and bowstring and got into a comfortable position; her legs crossed Indian-style beneath her and the violin cradled snugly between her cheek and shoulder. She listened to the utter silence lying inside its hollow core before tapping the bowstring to the strings three times.

_"__Five, four . . . Five! Four! Three! Two!"_

Without further ado, she sharply pushed her bow string up and down, creating a series of six sharp, high notes that rung in her ear. She smiled.

Time for her nightly rituals.

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**ME: Cookie goes out to anybody who can guess what movie I got the last few sentences from!**


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